


A Strange New World

by simoneallen



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-29
Updated: 2009-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-07 21:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simoneallen/pseuds/simoneallen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They find a strange new world, they check out the new life...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Strange New World

The castle loomed in the distance, rising forbiddingly out of the murky, foul smelling fog that swirled thickly around their boots like a vaguely malevolent alien soup.

 

McCoy scowled as he looked towards the imposing façade of the towering edifice, his face telling a thousand words when it came to his opinion of their surroundings.

 

“I hope to hell, Jim,” he said, turning towards the captain, “that you brought some silver bullets.”

 

Kirk laughed as the third member of their party, predictably, raised one elegant eyebrow and turned towards his glowering nemesis.

 

“Silver bullets, Doctor?” he said, mildly, “am I to assume your medical techniques have progressed even further into the realms of barbarism than beads and rattles?”

 

McCoy tore his gaze from the daunting structure ahead of them and turned to glare at the Vulcan.

 

“It was a joke, Spock,” he drawled, his tone one of exaggerated patience. “They’re supposed to be the only thing that can kill a vampire.”

 

Spock’s other eyebrow rose to join the first. “Werewolves,” he said. McCoy goggled at him.

 

“What?” he said, a look of confusion replacing the frown.

 

The sharp planes of Spock’s face seemed almost sinister in the gloomy twilight of the planet’s atmosphere as he answered.

 

“Silver bullets kill werewolves,” he said, as slowly and deliberately as if explaining the blatantly obvious to a rather obtuse greenhorn ensign.“Wooden stakes are the accepted means by which one would kill vampires.”

 

Kirk turned to fix an incredulous look on the Vulcan as McCoy, for once in his life lost for words, continued to stare wordlessly at him.

 

“According to Human folklore,” Spock added in explanation, folding his arms and returning the doctor’s look, his face the image of innocence. Kirk burst out laughing as he clapped McCoy on the back.

 

“He’s got you there, Bones!” he exclaimed, turning back towards his first officer as the medic grumbled under his breath. “How do you know so much about ‘Human folklore’ anyway?” he asked.

 

“I _am_ half Human, Captain,” Spock replied. “My mother informed me of various Earth legends.”

 

Kirk’s grin widened. “You mean she used to tell you ghost stories?” he asked, his hazel eyes twinkling mischievously as he fixed them on the solemn brown ones belonging to his friend. The darker eyes softened for a moment as they returned the captain’s gaze.

 

“Indeed not, sir,” he answered, in a tone that might have passed as indignant if it wasn’t Captain James T. Kirk listening. “I was raised in the Vulcan tradition, and such stories would have been inappropriate. My mother merely sought to ensure my education was as all encompassing of both Vulcan and Human cultures as possible; including legend and folklore.”

 

Kirk smiled knowingly as he nodded in acceptance.  “Of course, Mr. Spock,” he said, “I should never have presumed otherwise.”

 

McCoy rolled his eyes at the exchange. It was beyond him how even someone as slow on the uptake in these matters as Spock could have failed to notice the gigantic crush the captain had on him. As far as he was concerned it was about as obvious as the points on the Vulcan’s ears.

 

The doctor shuffled from one foot to the other and rubbed his arms in a vain attempt to ward off the insidious chill that had surrounded them from the moment they’d beamed down.

 

“Wooden stakes, or no wooden stakes,” McCoy pronounced, flashing a nasty look at the science officer, “maybe you’d better lead the way, Spock…any vampires lurking out there probably wouldn’t have a taste for that green stuff you call blood anyway.”

  
Spock, not dignifying the doctor’s words with a response, looked to the captain for his lead.

 

“We’d better go knock on the door, then,” Kirk said, and set off determinedly towards the castle, McCoy and Spock a step behind him.

 

 

 

****

 

 

 

The day had started off pretty quietly, especially by the standards of the crew of the Enterprise, which always seemed to be at the centre of any excitement, welcome or otherwise.

 

Kirk had been on the bridge, drumming his fingers restlessly on the arms of the captain’s chair. He felt at a bit of a loose end when the ship wasn’t even moving and was considering the merits of turning over command to Sulu and heading down to the science department to see how Spock was getting on. He swung his chair around towards the console that was usually Spock’s position to get an update. Chekov was manning the science station, conscientiously feeding readings from the system they were mapping down to the lab. Just as he turned the navigator lifted his head sharply from where he’d been looking down at the monitor.

 

“Keptin!” the young Russian exclaimed, turning around, a look of horrified shock on his face. Kirk leapt immediately to his feet at the tone in the navigator’s voice.

 

“Report,” he said sharply, and Chekov visibly pulled himself straighter under his captain’s regard.

 

“It’s not possible, sair,” he gabbled in response, his eyes flicking from Kirk to the monitor and back again before he slowly turned to stare at the main view screen. Kirk followed his gaze. “It just appeared,” Chekov continued, pointing at the screen, nervous excitement making his accent even stronger than usual, “out of novhere!”

 

The planet was so close it filled nearly the entire viewscreen. As Kirk stared, its red hue seemed to leak through the screen, casting an unnatural crimson shadow across the bridge.

 

“What do you mean, out of nowhere?” Kirk questioned. “Planets don’t just appear out of nowhere!” He slapped his hand against the panel on the arm of his chair to trigger the red alert, the warning lights accompanying the klaxon adding to the peculiar glow being let off by the planet. 

 

Sulu looked over his shoulder at the Captain. “Captain, there was that time..” he began, speaking up to be heard over the wail of the alert, but tailing off when Kirk waved a hand impatiently at him.

 

“Yes, Mr Sulu, I remember,” he said sharply. “Perhaps I should have said planets don’t _usually_ appear out of nowhere.” He flung himself back into his chair. “I want to know why _this_ one has appeared; and why right here, right now. I want every reading you can get me on that planet, and Chekov, go back over the readings you were taking when it first got here. Sulu, what are our co-ordinates? Has the Enterprise somehow been transported to another sector?”

 

The helmsman turned to face him. “No, sir,” he replied. “According to my readings we haven’t moved and,” he paused to take another look at the console in front of him before turning back towards Kirk. “Captain, the planet is registering as M-Class, Earth normal atmosphere, but it isn’t in orbit around anything. It doesn’t appear to have any source of heat or light. It just shouldn’t be here.”

 

Kirk nodded in acknowledgement and stared at the planet. It shouldn’t be here, no, but they had the evidence of their own eyes. But, he thought, their own eyes had been tricked before. It could be an illusion, it could be a telepathic projection, it could be any number of things. He hit the comm button. “Kirk to Spock,” he said, his tone one that demanded immediate attention.

 

“Callaghan here, sir,” came the reply from the science lab, “Mr. Spock’s on his way to the bridge.” The captain allowed himself to feel a brief surge of satisfaction even through the worry engendered by their current situation. His crew were the very model of efficiency. Of course Spock was on his way to the bridge. He would’ve set off the moment the alert sounded.

He took another look at the planet and hit the panel on the arm of his chair again. “Yellow alert, he said, and the klaxon immediately stopped. There didn’t seem to be an imminent threat and, apart from anything else, the loud noise of the alert, although good for getting the adrenalin going when battle was imminent, didn’t tend to create an atmosphere conducive to taking readings and analysing data from mysterious planets.

 

‘Imminent threat or not, this probably doesn’t mean anything good,’ he thought to himself, a worm of unease threaded its way through his body at the strangely hypnotic sight of the red planet. He shivered involuntarily, then deliberately tore his eyes away from the screen as he heard the turbolift doors open behind him.

 

“What in the beejezus is going on?” a familiar voice demanded. Kirk turned as the ship’s chief medical officer emerged from the lift.

 

“See for yourself, Bones,” he said, gesturing at the viewscreen.

 

“Where in hell did that come from?” McCoy demanded as he moved down to take up a position next to the captain’s chair , “and what do you expect me to do about it?” he continued, an indignant tone lifting the end of his sentence.

 

Kirk frowned at him. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “Who’s expecting you to do something about it?”

 

“You are!” the doctor exclaimed. “You said you needed me on the bridge for ‘non-medical purposes’, although I’m damned if I know why you have to be so cryptic about it.”

 

Kirk stared at him. This was rapidly moving from the bizarre to the ridiculous, and he was starting to feel very annoyed. “I didn’t call you to the bridge, Bones,” he said, returning his gaze to the viewscreen. “There’s something odd going on here,” he added.

 

In front of him Sulu and Riley exchanged glances. They really could have told the captain that, the look said, without taking a single one of the readings he’d demanded.

 

“What do you mean you didn’t call me to the bridge?” McCoy burst out. “I heard your voice with my own ears!” Kirk frowned and opened his mouth to reply just as the turbolift doors opened once again, this time to disgorge the awaited first officer.

 

Spock took one look at the screen and moved towards the science station, Chekov stepping to one side and looking on nervously as the Vulcan moved to check his readings. “Fascinating,” the first officer intoned, as he turned to look towards the captain’s chair, where Kirk was waiting impatiently for his opinion, the doctor bouncing on his toes beside him, a look of frustrated bemusement still on his face. “It appears to be an M class planet,” Spock continued, “but I have no immediate explanation for its characteristics or its anomalous appearance in this sector.”

 

McCoy snorted. “Nor why I should hear the captain calling me to the bridge when he insists he didn’t, I suppose?” he asked.

 

Spock raised his eyebrow at this new piece of information. “Indeed not, Doctor,” he replied, before fixing his eyes back on the captain. “Sir, I am not reading any life forms but, nonetheless, it would appear there is an intelligence at work here, seemingly one that can manipulate our perceptions.”

 

Kirk looked thoughtful. “You mean, this could all be an illusion, despite what our instruments are telling us?”

 

Spock nodded in response. McCoy opened his mouth to speak then abruptly closed it again as the planet faded from the screen, to be replaced by a pallid, thin, but definitely humanoid, and strangely beautiful, face.

 

The woman was so pale her skin seemed almost translucent, her long, black hair providing a startling contrast as it framed the delicate features of her face.

 

“Greetings, earthlings,” she said, then fixed her large, dark eyes on Spock, “and Mr. Spock,” she added, smiling languidly.

 

The science officer looked momentarily affronted at the appearance of a life form seconds after he’d reported there were none, but nevertheless nodded politely in acknowledgement even as he moved to check his readings. He was never one to let even the oddest of situations get in the way of common courtesy. McCoy caught the gesture and momentarily closed his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief.

 

“Who are you?” Kirk demanded, looking at the woman on the viewscreen.

 

“I am Heyka, mistress of Arpico,” she said, smiling softly, an indulgent look in her eyes. “I will welcome you - Kirk, Spock and McCoy - as guests in my castle of light,” she paused and laughed, “and darkness,” she added, dramatically flinging her arm in the air, before vanishing from the screen, which again filled with the view of the planet. Arpico, Kirk supposed.

 

“Fascinating,” Spock said quietly, for the second time since he’d arrived on the bridge.

 

McCoy rounded on him. Is that all you can say?” he demanded. “Vampira out there wants to entertain us in her ‘castle of darkness’ and all you have to say on the subject is ‘fascinating’?!”

 

Spock raised an eyebrow at the outburst but Kirk held up his hand to ward off his retort.  “Enough, Bones,” he said, “I think we may have a house call to prepare for.”

 

McCoy looked at him in astonishment. “You don’t mean you’re actually thinking of going down there?” he asked, his blue eyes wide as they fixed on the younger man’s.

 

“Of course I am,” Kirk replied, jumping to his feet. “We’re out here to explore strange new worlds and seek out new life and new civilisations and, be honest Bones, they don’t get much stranger than this…” 

 

“Jim, think about this,” McCoy retorted, then lowered his voice so as not to be overheard by the rest of the bridge crew. “Did you not _see_ that woman?” he hissed. “She looked like something out of a third rate horror movie.” He lowered his voice still further. “And have you forgotten what happened last time we were guests in a spooky castle?” he added. “The hanging around in irons in a dungeon? The zombification?”

 

“Oh come on, Bones,” Kirk chuckled. “So she was a bit odd and overly dramatic - that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s hostile to us or the Federation,” he said. “She’s invited us to her world, and it would be rude not to at least consider paying her a visit.”

 

McCoy peered at his friend suspiciously. The woman _was_ beautiful - if pale and interesting was your thing - and James T. Kirk wasn’t above thinking with his loins rather than his head on occasion. The captain engaged in short-lived trysts with beautiful women and - a fact known only to McCoy - men, with alarming regularity.

 

“Besides,” Kirk added, interrupting the doctor’s train of thought, “if she or her people have the power to make a planet appear out of nowhere, and make you hear voices that aren’t there, then I intend to make damn sure that she _doesn_ _’_ _t_ have hostile intentions towards us, and the best way to do that is to go check her out.”

 

Despite the unfortunate term, given the direction his thoughts had been taking, McCoy had the good grace to feel slightly ashamed he’d doubted the captain’s motives and felt obliged to give a grudging nod, despite his misgivings.

 

Spock moved down from the science console to stand with them. “Captain,” he said, “I am forced in this instance to concur with the doctor.” McCoy glared at him. It was so typical of the Vulcan to agree with him only when he’d just changed his mind. The first officer ignored the look. “We still cannot be sure, given the powers Heyka has exhibited thus far,” he continued, “that the planet is not, despite our readings, an illusion. I would suggest that further research is indicated.”

 

Kirk folded his arms behind his back. “I take your point, Mr. Spock,” he said, “but all our instruments indicate that the planet is here, and that it can sustain life. Is there any way we can be more certain than we already are that it is what it seems to be?”

 

Just then the decision was taken out of his hands. The reply to his question went unheard as the bridge winked out of existence and he, Spock and McCoy found themselves on what could only be Arpico, without so much as a phaser, communicator or even a tricorder between them.

 

 

****

 

 

The three Starfleet officers approached the castle ahead of them cautiously. There was a massive reinforced wooden door set into the stone walls of the castle. From either side of it, gargoyles rose outwards from the walls, their stony eyes seeming to look straight through them.

 

McCoy shivered, whether in trepidation or because of the cold, he wasn’t sure. “This blasted place is giving me the creeps,” he said, keeping his voice low, as if the hideous gargoyles might be listening in on their conversation.

 

“The creeps, Doctor?” Spock questioned automatically.

 

“Yes, Spock, the creeps, the heebie jeebies, the willies, whatever you want to call it,” McCoy replied waspishly.

 

Spock turned a longsuffering look towards the medic. “I would not _want_ to employ any such imprecise terms,” he began but broke off when the door ahead of them slowly started to open, its hinges creaking loudly as if this was the first time it had opened to admit anyone in millennia.

 

Kirk and McCoy exchanged glances. The captain raised his eyebrows, and gave a slight smile, unwilling to admit that he wasn’t immune to those ‘heebie jeebies’ the doctor was feeling.  He wasn’t in the slightest bit surprised that the heavy door appeared to have opened by itself. He was beginning to feel as though he’d been transported right into the middle of a gothic horror novel - and a rather clichéd one at that.

 

The door opened into a cavernous hall. Kirk took a deep breath and stepped inside, stopping to look around at his surroundings as his two friends came in to stand on either side of him.

 

The hall seemed to stretch a long way up, the ceiling barely visible in the dank gloom of the atmosphere. A large, but obviously neglected, chandelier hung down above them, the glittering opulence of its crystals offset by a thick coating of dust and a sticky mass of cobwebs.

 

A sweeping staircase led off from one side of the hall, while several closed doors, each flanked by old-fashioned burning torches, offered a way to as yet unseen rooms.

 

Swathes of blood red fabric covered parts of the stone walls, while on the parts left bare were several huge portraits of ominously stern looking sitters whose eyes seemed to glare out accusingly at the trio, as if daring them to venture further.

 

McCoy gulped as he looked around, his eyes wide. “It’s like something out of a damn theme park,” he muttered. “Any minute now Vampira’ll appear in a puff of smoke and magic us into the underworld.”

 

“Ssh,” Kirk said, gesturing at the doctor to keep it down and turning his head to look at the Vulcan. “Did you hear something then, Spock?”

 

“Aside from the doctor’s asinine chatter,” McCoy glowered at him but kept his mouth shut, “I believe I heard movement in that direction,” he said quietly, inclining his head towards the staircase.

 

The three men looked up the stairs, waiting in silent anticipation. McCoy let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

 

A figure appeared at the top of the staircase, appearing to almost glide down the steps as she moved closer and closer. It was the being that had appeared to them on the ship’s viewscreen. In person she was even more beautiful, Kirk thought, although it was an ethereal beauty. If he’d been asked to explain what it was that made her so arresting, he didn’t think he would be able to do so.

 

She was wearing a long gown in a velvety fabric several shades darker than the red of the wall-hangings. Her shiny black hair fell in exquisite silky waves over her shoulders and she smiled as she approached them.

 

“Welcome to Arpica,” she proclaimed sweeping an arm wide as if to encompass the whole of the planet.

 

She stopped in front of them and looked each of them up and down appraisingly, seemingly oblivious to McCoy’s shuffling discomfort or Spock’s impassive gaze, while the returning appraising stare from Kirk simply caused her smile to widen. She looked thoughtful, nodding occasionally as she inspected them, for all the world as if she were a child, and they were new toys bought for her amusement.

 

“You will follow me,” she said. The tone of her voice was not demanding nor imperious, but that of a statement of known fact.

 

She turned and walked towards one of the closed doors that led off the hall. Kirk looked from side to side at his companions then gave a resigned shrug as he followed her, McCoy and Spock beside him.

 

She led them into a room even bigger than the hall. It was lavishly furnished, with ornately carved bookshelves, cabinets and tables vying to outdo the sumptuousness of richly patterned couches and more of the menacing portraits that had so disconcerted the doctor when they first entered the castle. But like the hall, the magnificence of the décor was dulled by a sense of decay. Dust lay over every surface. The room smelt musty and looked neglected and unlived in, the only source of vibrancy and life, the woman in front of them. She turned to gaze at them again.

 

McCoy pulled at the collar of his uniform shirt, discomfited by the knowing look she gave him and blushing under the intense scrutiny of such a woman.

 

Kirk cleared his throat and turned his most charming smile on the woman in front of him. “Heyka,” he began, “On behalf of the Federation, I offer my thanks for your kind invitation to this planet and the hospitality you’ve shown us in inviting us into your home,” he ignored McCoy’s barely disguised snort of derision, “but I have some questions that need answering.”

 

Heyka sighed, moving to drape herself over one of the low slung sofas that dotted the room, and gestured to the three officers to help themselves to another. “Very well,” she said, sounding rather bored, “you may ask your questions.”

 

Kirk sat gingerly on one of the dusty couches and Spock and McCoy perched themselves beside him as he looked at their enigmatic host with interest. “Firstly,” he said, “who are you and where did you and this planet come from?”

 

“I am Heyka,” she said, looking at him as if he were being utterly dense. “This is Arpica, and we are here. That’s the way it has always been.”

 

Kirk frowned as his heart began to sink at the inauspicious start to this interrogation. Her vague answers didn’t bode well when it came to finding out what the hell was going on here.

 

“Madam,” Spock tried. “This planet appeared in this quadrant, seemingly out of nowhere, approximately 2.4 hours ago. To suggest that it has always been here would seem disingenuous at best.”

 

Heyka laughed again. "You really are delightful,” she said, the air of boredom abandoned as quickly as it had been donned. “Say that again!” she demanded.

 

Spock looked at her impassively, saying nothing.

 

“Why would I want to mislead you?” she asked when he remained silent, her voice rather too bright and happy, Kirk thought, considering one of her guests had just called her a liar. “I speak simply the truth,” she continued. “We have always been here, my planet and I, and if you couldn’t see us before, well I can hardly be held responsible for that, can I?” She looked from Spock to Kirk. “Well, can I?” She demanded.

 

“I suppose not,” Kirk admitted. He decided it might be best to try a different line of questioning. “Why did you invite us here?” he asked.

 

“Oh, that’s an easy one,” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together delightedly, before a mournful look pushed the smile from her face. “I’ve been all alone you see,” she answered in a plaintive tone. “Just my planet here; and me.”

 

Kirk, gripped by a strong sense of deja vue, wondered if this whole explanation was going to rhyme.

 

“For many years I wished it so. But loneliness began to grow.”

 

Hmm, seemingly it was. He looked questioningly at McCoy. What was it with crazy aliens and their woeful poetry?

 

The doctor raised his eyebrows and gave a slight shake of his head, as Heyka continued her singsong answer.

 

“I seek a union of the mind. A prince whose soul is true and kind.”

 

She certainly had the rapt, if rather befuddled, attention of the three StarFleet officers. McCoy looked at Kirk, an expression of ever so slightly amused horror on his face. Even Spock seemed to feel it merited the raising of both eyebrows rather than the more customary one.

 

Heyka smiled beatifically at them as she finished her rhyme. “So which one will it be?” She trilled.  “Which of these fine three…will prove love’s worthy mate…and seal my lucky fate?”

 

As she finished the three men stared at her for long minutes without speaking.

 

“Lovely as that was, ma’am,” McCoy finally said, breaking the stunned silence as he turned his Southern charm up to its highest wattage, “I’m afraid none of us are suitable candidates for ‘love’s worthy mate’,” he paused, “as tempting as the offer may be from such a charming young lady.”

 

It was the wrong thing to say.

 

Her demeanour turned from that of lovestruck poet to a woman scorned in an instant, as she flew off the couch to stand in front of them, her face contorted with anger. “Not suitable?” She screeched, her beauty vanquished by the contempt that utterly transformed her features. “I’ll decide who’s suitable and who isn’t!”

 

She drew her arm in a furious arc through the air in front of her…and the world went dark.

 

 

****

 

 

McCoy groaned as he came around. His head was pounding and his arms felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets. He lifted his head, the effort making him feel slightly queasy, and squinted first upwards at his imprisoned wrists, before looking to one side and the other. Spock met his gaze solemnly while, on his other side, Kirk groaned, and seemed to be having the same difficulty when it came to lifting his chin off his chest.

 

“I knew it!” he pronounced loudly.

 

“Wha..” Kirk groaned blearily.

 

“I said this would happen, Jim,” McCoy yelled, for once not giving a hoot if his friend was likely in pain. “Didn’t I say that we’d end up in a dungeon…again?!  Didn’t I warn you this would happen if you insisted we went on this damn fool mission?”

 

He pulled his hands vigorously downwards to check the strength of the chains holding his arms firmly above his head, then wished he hadn’t as the movement sent jolts of pain from his wrists right down to his armpits and across his shoulders and upper back.

 

Kirk managed to raise his head enough to peer at his companions through the gloom. He sighed. “I take your point, Bones,” he said resignedly, wincing in pain, “although I didn’t exactly have much choice in the matter, but shouting about it isn’t going to get us out of here any quicker. Any constructive ideas?”

 

The doctor shot him a dirty look but muted his response to disgruntled muttering under his breath.

 

“Spock,” Kirk said, “how about you?  Any comments?” A sudden thought occurred to him. “ _Not_ ,” he said loudly as the Vulcan opened his mouth to respond, “not,” he repeated firmly, “on the poetry.”

 

Spock closed his mouth again. McCoy caught the movement and shook his head, giving another disbelieving snort. The Vulcan glanced at him and was silent for a moment, before replying.“It _was_ extremely bad poetry.”

 

Kirk groaned and McCoy rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “For heaven’s sake,” the doctor exclaimed. “It’s bad enough being holed up in this place without having to listen to you attempting damn literary reviews!” He turned his head towards the Vulcan. “Surely you have some theories on the mistress of darkness up there,” he jerked his chin up towards the ceiling, “and what she plans to do with us?”

 

Spock fixed the doctor with a look that for a Human would seem utterly impassive but, for him, practically dripped with exasperation. “If you would let me finish, Doctor,” he replied. “She has informed us of what she has in mind, in the aforementioned poetry. She intends to make one of us her ‘prince’.”

 

McCoy scowled at him. “You don’t say,” he said sarcastically. “I got that much, Spock, but who the devil is she and why pick on us? I mean, she’s obviously a few nutri-bars short of a ration pack…”

 

“Indeed,” Spock cut in, “if I understand you correctly. She has displayed most erratic behaviour. Her moods appear even more changeable than those of Humankind.” He looked thoughtful. “She is an alien being of great power but with little control of her emotions, and could therefore prove dangerously unpredictable. As to why she has singled out we three as the focus of her attentions, I would surmise our relative location at the time of the appearance of this world provided her with a fortuitous opportunity to fulfil her aspirations to secure a mate.”

 

Kirk craned his neck to look around McCoy at his first officer. “You mean, we were in the wrong place at the wrong time?” he said.

 

“I believe that is what I just said, Captain,” came the reply.

 

“Jesus,” McCoy muttered under his breath.

 

Just then a loud clanging cut off any further comments and all three men looked at the large metal door set into the grey stone of the wall opposite the one they were chained to.

 

It slowly swung open, to reveal Heyka. She had changed her gown to one that was equally as ornate as her previous attire, but this time in white with flecks of gold running through it. She had put her hair up, secured with a matching white and gold flower.

 

The entire effect, Kirk thought, was one of demure innocence - if you didn’t know better, and if the look wasn’t being worn by someone who had just chained you up in a cold, dank dungeon.

 

She smiled as she moved to stand in front of him. She silently reached out to touch Kirk’s chest then ran her hand down the front of his uniform, looking up at him through dark lashes.

 

Kirk caught his breath as she ran her hand lower. He closed his eyes and willed himself not to respond to the touch.

 

Heyka laughed delightedly. “Why, Captain,” she said, her tone low and seductive, “don’t pretend you aren’t pleased to see me.” She pouted. “You’ll hurt my feelings.”

 

“Do _not_ touch him,” came a commanding voice from their left.

 

Heyka stilled for a moment before drawing her arm unhurriedly back, slowly turning to fix a curious look on the Vulcan, who stared back, stony faced. She stepped back from Kirk and turned to walk towards Spock, trailing one hand languidly across McCoy’s stomach as she passed him, to his obvious chagrin, before coming to a halt in front of the science officer, giving him a speculative look.

 

“So possessive,” she murmured, then flashed a sudden smile. “I wonder…” she continued.

 

Suddenly there was an explosion of light and the three chained men squeezed their eyes shut against its sudden onslaught. When they opened them again, the woman that had been Heyka had vanished and in her place stood a young man. He smiled at Spock and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

 

It took only a moment for Kirk to recognise him. The features were masculine - defined and handsome, where before they had been soft and feminine - but they were undoubtedly the same features.

 

The white gown had been replaced by flowing white pants tucked into boots of the same colour. A tight-fitting white tunic, shot through with gold, clung to the finely muscled contours of his chest. His silky black hair fell delicately over his face, curling softly around the tunic’s high collar. He was every bit as beautiful in this form as she had been before.

 

He reached up and ran his hand down Spock’s front in the same way his female counterpart had done to Kirk. “Is this more to your liking?” he asked, his voice soft and tuneful.

 

Spock stared at him, his face expressionless.

 

“ _You_ are not to my liking in any form,” he responded, his voice tight with tension.

 

Kirk felt hot ire wash over him. He knew how much Spock hated to be touched and had always respected the close guard his friend kept around his privacy. The sight of this being touching him, forcing a physical contact he knew Spock would find abhorrent, infuriated him. “Leave him alone,” he heard himself shouting, his voice sounding, in his fury, as though it came from a great distance.

 

Heyka chuckled as he pulled his hand back and turned to look back towards the captain. “Such a shame,” he said, shaking his head despondently. “Either of you would be a perfect mate,” he continued, “but I want one whose heart is not already spoken for.”

 

He moved to stand in front of McCoy, whose eyes were nervously flickering from captain to first officer, and in another flash transformed back into the feminine persona that had first greeted them. She waved her hand and the shackles binding all three men abruptly disappeared.

 

Kirk fell to the ground as the chains holding him against the wall vanished, seeing out of the corner of his eye the same thing happen to Spock.

 

Before he could move he saw Heyka reach up to caress McCoy’s face. “You are a worthy choice,” she said, smiling.

 

“No!” Kirk shouted, reaching out towards his friend, knowing what was about to happen a split second before it did.

 

There was another burst of brightness and Heyka vanished, McCoy along with her.

 

Kirk and Spock sat on the cold stone floor and gazed at each other for a moment before Kirk jumped to his feet. He reached out his hand to Spock and pulled him to a standing position.

 

He felt the jolt that passed through him at the touch, and filed it away for later consideration, along with Heyka’s observation about their hearts; now was neither the time nor the place.

 

“We have to find him,” he said.

 

“Yes,” Spock replied. “But it is not immediately obvious how to proceed.”

 

The door to the dungeon was still wide open, but Spock was regarding it with an understandable wariness.

 

“Well,” Kirk said, following his first officer’s gaze, “I know it seems unlikely she, or he, would let us out of here so easily, but that open door is the only choice we have right now.” 

 

Spock nodded “Agreed,” he replied, and Kirk ran towards the door, the Vulcan hot on his heels.

 

The door led into a corridor on the Enterprise.

 

Kirk halted so quickly that Spock ran into the back of him, and he felt another jolt run through him, even through his shock and confusion, before the Vulcan quickly righted himself and murmured an apology.

 

Kirk turned quickly on his heel. There was no doubt about it. They had been somehow transported back to the Enterprise as quickly as they had been snatched from the bridge hours earlier. He walked up to the nearest bulkhead and smacked his hand against a comm panel.

 

“Kirk to bridge.”

 

“Scott, here,” came the quick reply, “Captain are you…?”

 

“No time, Scotty,” Kirk interrupted the questioning tone. “I need you to scan the ship and the planet.  Spock’s here with me on deck four, but McCoy’s missing. We’re on our way to the bridge.”

 

“Aye, sir,” the Scot replied, his tone grim.

 

Kirk had a feeling the news wasn’t going to be what he wanted to hear before he and Spock even stepped out of the turbolift. The feeling deepened the moment the doors opening, and the first thing he noticed, with a sinking heart, was that the red planet had vanished from the viewscreen, replaced by the blinking star formations that had become so familiar over the time they had spent mapping the system.

 

Scott relinquished the command chair as Kirk and Spock walked onto the bridge and immediately started updating the captain as Spock headed towards the science station. “I’ve scanned the entire ship, sir,” he said, “but there’s nary a sign of the doctor.”

 

Kirk took centre seat, his jaw set, while Spock relieved Chekov, the ensign moving in turn to relieve Riley at navigation, slipping into the seat next to Sulu.“Mr. Scott,” he said. “when did the planet disappear again? I want to know exactly what’s happened since we left the ship.

 

The Scot looked bemused. “Left the ship, sir?” he questioned.

 

“Yes, Mr Scott,” Kirk replied, feeling the frustrated anger rising inside him at the look of confusion on the erstwhile acting captain’s face.

 

“But Captain,” Scott said slowly “You’ve been gone barely a minute. You, Mr. Spock here and the doctor vanished from the bridge, but we’d hardly started to search before you signalled from deck four.”

 

“What?” Kirk exclaimed. “That’s not possible…” he broke off as Spock moved down from his station to stand beside the engineer.

 

“It is indeed possible, Captain,” he said, folding his hand behind his back. “The ship’s chronometer shows we have been gone approximately 1.48 minutes.”

 

Kirk sat heavily in his chair. If it wasn’t for his missing friend, he might even find some amusement in the ridiculous happenings of the past few hours, or indeed, minutes, if that was the case. But Bones _was_ missing and that was not funny; not funny at all.

 

“And the planet?” he asked.

 

“I cannae understand it, sir,” Scott replied, gesturing towards the view screen. “The blinkin’ thing vanished just after you called in.”

 

The engineer seemed to be about to add more but just then the comm panel on the arm of Kirk’s chair let out a bleep. Without tearing his eyes away from where they had followed Scott’s arm to the viewscreen, he palmed the control to take the call. “What?” he said sharply.

 

“Well, that’s a nice greeting,” came the familiar drawl. “Who rattled your cage?”

 

Kirk broke into a huge grin. “Bones!” He exclaimed.

 

“The one and only,” came the reply.

 

Kirk looked up at Spock, the smile so wide it threatened to split his face. Spock raised one eyebrow. “Where the hell are you?” Kirk continued.

 

“Sickbay,” the doctor responded. “Don’t ask me how, Jim,” he added, “but here I am.”

 

“I’ll be right there,” Kirk said, jumping to his feet. “Spock, you’re with me. Scotty,” he gestured towards the chair he’d just vacated. “She’s all yours.”

 

He practically ran into the turbolift, Spock following at a slightly more dignified pace, leaving the engineer staring after them, a bewildered frown on his face.

 

“Aye sir,” he said faintly to the closing doors.

 

Chekov turned to Sulu. “Is it alvays like siz?” the ship’s newest crewmember whispered.

 

Sulu grinned at him. “Pretty much,” he said happily. “You’ll never get bored on the Enterprise, young Pavel!”

 

 

****

 

 

In sickbay, Kirk and Spock found McCoy leaning back in a chair in his office, his feet propped up on the desk in front of him. He had a glass of something in his hand, and a wide smile on his face.

 

“Bones.” Kirk stated, still not quite believing his friend was here and seemed not only in one piece but rather damn pleased with himself. “What happened?” he asked. “Are you all right?”

 

“I’m just fine and dandy, Jim,” he replied. “Thanks for asking.” His grin, if it were possible, seemed to get even wider.

 

Kirk frowned, and he knew without even looking that Spock’s eyebrow was making its inexorable way towards his hairline as they both regarded the smiling medic.

 

“Uh, Bones,” he said. “What happened?”

 

The doctor took a slug of his drink. “Well, you know, Jim,” he replied, “it is possible to misjudge people and, in this case, I hold up my hands.”

 

“Wha..” Kirk began then tailed off as he realised he didn’t have the slightest idea what he’d been planning to say.

 

“Doctor,” Spock rescued him. “How long were you on the planet after you left the dungeon?”

 

McCoy thought for a moment. “I’d say a coupla hours,” he answered. “Sorry if I worried you, Jim,” he said turning towards Kirk, “but as you can see I’m perfectly fine.”

 

Kirk glared at him, exasperation rapidly replacing the relief and joy he’d felt at realising his friend was safe and well.

 

“It would seem Heyka can control time,” Spock said thoughtfully, “or at least our perception of time.”

 

Kirk didn’t acknowledge the words as he continued to stare at McCoy.“A couple of hours?” he exclaimed. “What were you doing for a couple of hours?”

 

McCoy blushed but managed to sum up a measure of defiance as he met the captain’s eyes. “Well, Jim,” he drawled, “what would _you_ be doing if you disappeared with a beautiful woman for a couple hours?”

 

Kirk was speechless, and Spock’s eyebrows had, by this point, all but disappeared beneath his neat bangs. “Doctor,” he said, “did you not refer to Heyka as being, I quote, ‘two nutri-bars short of a ration pack’?”

 

McCoy swung his legs down from the desk and jumped to his feet. “Well, Spock,” he said enigmatically, “appearances can be deceptive.” He strode towards the doors. “If you two boys will excuse me,” he called back over his shoulder, “I’m off duty and I’m going to get some much needed rest.”

 

Kirk looked at his first officer and shook his head. He moved over to the wall and palmed the comm link. “Kirk to Scott.”

 

“Scott here,” came the reply, the engineer still sounding faintly confused.

 

“I think we can safely say,” Kirk informed him, “that the doctor is not only safe but rather more well than he should be,” he paused and caught his first officer’s eye.

 

“Insufferably so,” Spock agreed.

 

Kirk smiled as he continued. “Carry on as you were, Mr. Scott. Consider Mr. Spock and myself off duty but call immediately if anything else unusual happens.”

 

“Aye, sir,” the Scot answered, the firmness of the reply seeming to indicate that nothing untoward had better dare happen on his watch.

 

 

“Come on, Spock,” Kirk said. “How about a game of chess?”

 

 

****

 

 

As they walked in silence back towards Kirk’s quarters he was aware of a subtle tension between them, something new. Now that the crisis seemed to be over he couldn’t stop Heyka’s words in the dungeon from running through his head.

 

_“I want one whose heart is not already spoken for.”_

 

Then there had been Heyka’s presumption that Spock would find her more attractive as a male. ‘Was that possible?’ he thought.

 

He took a sidelong glance at Spock as they neared his quarters. Suddenly his mouth felt dry and his heart was pounding. He wasn’t really very interested in playing chess any more. When the door slid shut behind them he turned towards his Vulcan friend.

 

“Spock,” he began, and a pair of dark eyes met his own. He took a deep breath before continuing. “Can I ask you something?”

 

The Vulcan nodded in response. “Of course, Jim,” he replied, the formality of rank dropped, as it always was when they were off duty and alone together.

 

“On the planet,” Kirk continued,  “when Heyka transformed into a male…” he trailed off, unsure whether to continue. “I don’t mean to intrude,”  he added quickly.

 

Spock’s stared at him, a flicker of emotion passing over the strong, sculptured features. He seemed to come to a decision. “You wish to know,” he said, “if she were correct in her surmise of my sexuality?”

 

Kirk nodded dumbly, not trusting himself to say anything further and still half sure Spock would go all ‘Vulcan’ on him at any second and come out with a line about his race ‘not speaking of such things’.

 

Instead he slowly nodded, his eyes not leaving Kirk’s. “She was,” he answered, his voice as calm and level as it ever was.

 

Kirk gulped. He’d had no idea, no idea at all. If he had…

 

He took another deep breath, and tried to stop his thoughts from going in that direction. It was a big step from Spock admitting his homosexuality to him being interested in a relationship with his captain; his closest friend.

 

“Jim,” Spock was saying, a hint of concern in his voice. “Does this bother you?”

 

“No!” Kirk said, rather more forcefully than necessary. He tried to calm himself. “No, of course it doesn’t,” he continued in a more measured tone. “Not at all.” He moved to perch on the edge of his desk. He felt like he could use the extra support during this conversation, which was the last one he’d ever thought he’d find himself having when he’d started his shift. “I’m just a bit surprised, that’s all,” he added. “You never said,” he finished, then inwardly cursed himself for the lame words that seemed to be all he could find.

 

Spock looked as uncomfortable as he’d ever seen him, and Kirk frowned. He was handling this all wrong. He searched his mind to try to find the right words to put his friend at ease, but Spock, a look of resolution on his face, beat him to it.

 

“I did not wish,” he said quietly, “for you to know.”

 

Kirk felt a stab of pain that Spock hadn’t felt he could confide in him and opened his mouth to try to reassure him, but Spock held up a hand to stall him.

 

“Let me finish, Jim.” He said, his tone one of resigned determination. “I believed,” he continued, “that if you knew of my sexuality you would be more likely to deduce my,” he paused seemingly to search for the right term, “regard,” he finally settled on, “for you.”

 

Kirk felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders as a heady mixture of joy and relief flowed through him. He lifted himself from the desk and moved over to stand close to the Vulcan. He reached out a hand to softly grasp Spock’s chin and lifted his head so their eyes met.

 

“Christ, Spock,” he said, laughing shakily. “Did you never think that your ‘regard’ might be returned?”

 

Spock’s eyes widened. “Jim?” he said questioningly, and Kirk smiled at the sound of his name said in that deep voice, coming from those lips.

 

“Spock,” he said, leaning in closer, “you don’t know how often I’ve fantasized about this moment.” He kissed him quickly on the lips then pulled back to gauge his reaction.

 

The Vulcan stared at him for a moment, then a surprised Kirk suddenly found himself pushed back against the desk, engulfed in hotter than Human arms as a lean, sinewy body pressed tightly against his own.

 

He groaned into the Vulcan mouth that demanded his own to open. In his imaginings he had thought Spock would be unsure of himself; that if what he dreamed of ever happened, he would need to gently guide him into lovemaking. This enthusiastic zeal was nothing like he could ever have foreseen.

 

“Jesus, Spock,” he gasped as his mouth was released for a moment, “you’re something else.”

 

Spock pulled back slightly so their eyes could meet. “In what way, Jim?” he asked, his voice low and full of suggestion, the uncertainty of a moment ago seemingly banished.

 

Kirk gawped at him, aware his mouth was hanging open like he was some sort of idiot, but unable, at that moment, to do much about it. “I uh,” was all he managed.

 

“I wish to know,” the Vulcan added.

 

Kirk swallowed as he looked into the now gently green-flushed face so close to his own. He reached up to run his fingers from the tip of one pointed ear, then down across his jawbone, lingering to draw his thumb gently across the slightly swollen lips. “You’re beautiful,” he said, “and sexy,” he added, as he reached to grasp his hips and pull him closer, drawing in a sharp breath as their erections met. He looked into the deep, dark eyes and decided to take a risk. “And I want to fuck you right now,” he murmured.

 

Spock leant down and Kirk felt a soft, wet tongue gently drag along the edge of his ear. “How hard?” the voice whispered, and Kirk nearly came in his pants.

 

He flipped them around and pushed Spock down onto the desk, roughly pulled at the Vulcan’s pants, all decorum forgotten in the need that had overtaken him.

 

He got rid of the pants, underwear and boots in seconds and as he did so Spock reached down to touch himself. Pulling in a breath and throwing his head back, he arched his back as he grasped his cock.

 

Kirk paused for a moment to take in the view. He’d never seen anything so erotic in his life. His reserved, restrained first officer was lying on his desk, his eyes closed, moaning softly as he slowly masturbated, lost in the moment as he unashamedly caressed his already leaking cock.

 

He hurriedly kicked his boots off at the same time as he unfastened his pants, pulling off his uniform as quickly as he could, until he was completely naked, his penis arcing forward, aching for release.

 

“Spock,” he moaned, reaching down to hold himself, not sure, despite how little they had actually done, how much longer he could last.

 

Spock seemed to sense his predicament and opened his eyes to look at him. He flicked his tongue across his lips as he drew his knees back, the invitation clear.

 

Kirk hesitated. Even through the almost overwhelming need to bury himself in the tightly puckered ass being offered to him, he didn’t want to hurt his lover.

 

“Jim,” Spock said quickly, “My Vulcan physiology will ensure there is minimal pain for either of us.”

 

Kirk moved a step closer.

 

“Please,” Spock encouraged, the need in his voice making it rougher than usual. “I want you inside me.”

 

Kirk didn’t need any further encouragement. He kept his eyes fixed on Spock’s as he moved to push his cock against the initially resisting entrance to the Vulcan’s body. Spock was right, after the initial resistance there was no pain, just an intense pleasure that shot right through his body.

 

He tried to go slow, but the sensations were too strong and Spock’s moans of passion only served to inflame his desire. He found himself thrusting uncontrollably into the deliciously tight space, his own groans mixing with his lover’s until he wasn’t sure which sounds were his and which Spock’s.

 

As he felt his climax threatening to overwhelm him, he moved his hand to Spock’s penis, pumping it in the same rhythm in which he was driving into his ass.

 

Spock was gripping the edge of the desk to stop his body moving across it under the force of the thrusts into his body. His head was tilted back and to one side, his mouth a silent ‘o’.

 

Kirk felt his body trembling as the building pressure became impossible to resist. He threw his head back and closed his eyes, saying his lover’s name over and over again. His seed flowed into the best home it had ever known as he felt Spock spill over his hand.

 

He collapsed over the Vulcan’s prone body, both of them panting and exhausted, unable to do anything for the moment but be still.

 

After a few minutes, when he could move again, Kirk pushed himself backwards and reached out to grasp Spock’s hand, pulling him upwards for a kiss that was as soft and gentle as their lovemaking had been urgent and needed.

 

“Bed?” he suggested, smiling. Spock, his eyes crinkling in his own version of a smile, nodded and allowed himself to be led to the bunk.

 

The Vulcan divested himself of the blue uniform tunic and undershirt they’d never got around to removing during the frantic sex they’d shared. Then they lay side by side on the bed, facing each other. Kirk smiled as he reached out a hand to gently clasp the back of Spock’s head, closing his eyes as he pulled him in for another kiss.

 

Suddenly the atmosphere changed; the temperature in the room seemed to drop and Kirk shivered. He abruptly released his lover as his eyes snapped open.

 

Heyka stood at the end of the bed, looking down at them. They both sat bolt upright, Spock pulling the covers up over their nude bodies.

 

She leaned forward until her face was on a level with theirs. “Trick!” she suddenly shouted, making Kirk jump. “Or, in this case,” she added, lowering her voice and looking them up and down suggestively, “should I say treat?”

 

With that she gave them a wide smile, throwing her head back and laughing before vanishing as quickly as she’d arrived, her laughter seeming to echo around the room for far longer than the few seconds she’d been there.

 

“Fascinating,” Spock said, staring at the spot she had occupied. Kirk moved quickly, slapping his hand against the comm panel next to the bunk to hail the bridge.

 

“Sulu here,” came the immediate reply, Mr. Scott having apparently handed over the comm, presumably eager to get back to his engines.

 

“Status?” Kirk barked.

 

There was a moment’s silence. “Unchanged,” the acting captain replied. “Is there something wrong, sir?”

 

Kirk looked at Spock, who tore his gaze away from where Heyka had been standing to fix his eyes on lover’s, giving a slight shake of his head. “Negative,” Kirk answered, implicitly trusting the judgement of his first officer. “As you were, Mr. Sulu.” He cut the connection and turned to look expectantly at the Vulcan.

 

“I do not believe she will return,” Spock said as Kirk settled back on the bed, looking curious and somewhat frustrated. “Jim,” he continued, “do you know what the date is?”

 

“Stardate 3854.2,” he answered, puzzled by the apparent non sequitur. Then realisation began to dawn. “Or,” he said slowly, “going by the old-style Earth calendar; October 31.”

 

Spock nodded in response.

 

“Halloween,” Kirk murmured. The date had completely passed him by, the celebrations of the day that were customary back on Earth not the first thing on his mind during a perilous five-year exploratory mission.

 

“Heyka.” Spock said thoughtfully.  Kirk frowned up at him, registering the look he always got when he’d solved a particularly puzzling scientific dilemma.

 

The Vulcan took a deep breath. “Jim, have you ever heard of Heyoka?” he asked.

 

Kirk shook his head and Spock leant back and slid his body down the bed to nestle close to his lover.

 

“As I mentioned on the planet,” he began, “when I was a child, my mother spoke to me on numerous occasions of the myths and legends of Earth. A prominent figure in the folklore of many cultures is that of the Trickster -  a mythical spirit or God known variously as Loki, Reynaud, Coyote, Heyoka…”

 

Kirk relaxed as the deep, melodious voice of the being he so loved washed over him. He smiled as he listened to the story Spock told him, feeling happier than he’d ever thought possible as he let himself be soothed towards contented slumber.

 

 

 

_FIN_

 

  
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